


don't let me go

by sleepytimejared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Manly Tears, Minor Angst, Samgazing, Schmoop, Stargazing, Sunsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepytimejared/pseuds/sleepytimejared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's meant to be a real nice sunset tonight, y'know?"</p><p>They're in a diner, somewhere near Bend, Oregon. Dean's working his way through the biggest meal they had on the menu, and Sam's on his laptop, making use of the free WiFi and stealing the occasional handful of fries from Dean's tray with an impish grin that has Dean glowering from behind his grease-drenched burger.</p><p>"Ah, Sammy, Didn't know you were such a softie."</p><p>(Or: Sam watches a sunset, Dean watches Sam, and bursts into tears; then, they kiss a little... Or something like that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't let me go

"There's meant to be a real nice sunset tonight, y'know?"

They're in a diner, somewhere near Bend, Oregon. Dean's working his way through the biggest meal they had on the menu, and Sam's on his laptop, making use of the free WiFi and stealing the occasional handful of fries from Dean's tray with an impish grin that has Dean glowering from behind his grease-drenched burger.

"Ah, Sammy, Didn't know you were such a softie."

Sam scoffs, "Get lost, man, just thought it could be nice, is all. I mean, we're on the way out of town so, why the hell not? Sky's meant to be clear after, too."

Dean has this overwhelming urge to call him a girl, tease the everloving shit out of him for being so... So fucking _Sam_ -like. Yet, at the same time, there's this twinge of heat and longing and want, pulling at his insides and making his head spin. "Yeah, we could do with a break. Whaddya say we hit up some festival, too? S'not like we got anywhere better to be. Motorhead are playing in Jersey next week, we can make our way over nice and slow, keep an eye out for any hunt's along the way."

Sam grins this stupid, timid little grin that makes Dean want to punch him for being so goddamn adorable all the time. He can't stand it. Sam makes his face burn, heat rising up his body, fuck, he can't be the only one who feels it. It's so goddamn warm, almost uncomfortable, but not quite.

Whatever ‘it’ is, Dean hates it.

Dean definitely doesn’t like how it feels. He absolutely does not try to make Sam smile just so he can feel it some more. Nope. Not at all.

He grunts; throwing the last piece of burger in his mouth and grinning in smug delight at the face Sam makes when the grease drips down his chin.

He wipes it off anyway, taking one last handful of salty fries from the plastic basket before he drops thirty dollars on the table and rises from the booth. He cracks his back and sends an overly flirtatious smirk at the waitress, who smiles back, face flushing red and eyelashes fluttering before her attention is taken from Dean by a customer.

"C'mon, Sammy, let's hit the road." He pats his brother on the shoulder and pretends not to notice the flinch that shocks through Sam at the contact. Sam's just weird sometimes.

\-------

Dean stops on the side of an empty road around twenty miles out of town, when the sky (and, therefore, the lake below it) has taken on a tinge of yellow-orange. He and Sam exit the car in silence, resuming their usual positions on the hood of the car. Except, this time, it feels different somehow, like the air around them has changed. And when Dean catches Sam staring at him, rather than the lowering sun, he knows something is definitely up.

He's about to call Sam out on it, when he looks, really looks at the view unfolding in front of him, and his breath is kinda taken away. An expanse of shimmering water is laid out, lapping softly at the shoreline. Behind the lake is a perfectly sculpted landscape of white-capped mountains, the snow on top reflecting the changing colors of the sky.

The sky looks like torn silk now, ribbons of blue, purple, pink, gold and red, stretching for god knows how many miles, and, for a second, Dean is pretty damn sure that it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

That is until a shoulder bumps against his and his eyes dart towards his baby brother's face. _Jesus Christ._

Sam's face is glowing, the colors lighting him up and holy shit, Dean literally gasps aloud when a huge, warm smile grows on his baby brother’s lips, bringing out those pathetically cute dimples that make Dean want to kiss him for hours on end, soft and sweet.

Sam doesn’t smile all that often, he’s usually too brooding and angsty to bother using the facial muscles. But when he does, it’s like someone’s taken the fucking sun right out of the sky and put it right in front of Dean. Everything bad in his life, all the self-loathing, all the horrors he’s seen, it’s like they don’t exist for a little while. Everything is suddenly okay again, because all he can see, all he can think about is Sam. Sam and his perfectly white teeth, the crinkles by his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, the genuine happiness on his face.

Dean takes a deep breath, realization creeping up on him that, yeah, okay, maybe he’s just a little bit in love with Sam.

When Dean lets out a soft sigh, Sam turns to him, hazel eyes sparkling bright and happy and carefree, in a way Dean hasn't seen him since before he found out monsters were real. He's grinning now, as his eyes catch Dean's, wide and full and delighted and Dean's so choked up and in love that he doesn't even bother to deny it anymore.

"Sammy, you... I... The sunset... It's..." Dean's voice is raw, his mouth moving entirely of its own accord and forcing the words, rough and deep and breathless, from his throat.

"Beautiful." Sam finishes for him anyway, his voice barely a whisper, "Yeah, I know."

But Sam doesn't know - he doesn't. He thinks Dean's talking about the fucking sky, as if the true definition of beauty, of everything perfect in the world, couldn't be found in the boy - _man_ \- sitting next to him. 

Dean want's to say something to make Sam see. One day, Dean swears, he'll make sure Sam knows how beautiful he is, how amazing and selfless and fucking perfect he really is. Instead, he stays silent, just staring at his little brother.

Dean wets his lips, ignoring the flush in his cheeks and the hard, quick beat of his heart. Every second of looking at his baby brother is slowly killing him inside. He can’t stand not kissing him, not when Sam’s sat there looking like that. He closes his eyes, tries to recollect himself, then turns his attention back to the sky.

He realizes then, that Sam had his attention for far longer than he thought. The sun's completely gone now. It's dipped behind the mountains, which then swallowed up all of the colors, leaving a deep, near-black, blue in their wake. The sky is still lit up, though, only now by a canopy of twinkling stars, almost as bright as the one's in Sam's eyes. The moon is there, too, but it's barely a sliver of light in the blackness.

The only sounds Dean can hear are the slow sloshing of the water against the land, and Sam's breathing. It’s constant in and out that Dean latches on to like he'll die if he doesn't. He copies the pattern of breaths, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull Sam closer. Their shoulders and thighs are pressed together and feet brush ankles occasionally, but it isn't enough, Dean needs something more.

He gives it time, becomes hyper aware of every movement Sam makes. Waits until he feels the tip of Sam's boot nudge his heel, before he shifts subtly, ankle twisting around to get on the inside of Sam's foot, holding it there. It's a safe move; because Sam can easily get out if he wants to, and Dean can brush it off as accidental. That doesn't stop the panic twisting his gut when he hears the hitch in Sam's breathing, though.

He winces, expecting their feet to untangle and Sam to move away, but instead, his younger brother relaxes again. More so, Sam leans into the touch, so Dean slings an arm around his shoulders and lets Sam tuck himself under his arm, right where he belongs.

They sit in silence for a long time after that, not saying a word, just feeling each other there, alive and okay, because that's all they really need sometimes. Their feet stay tangled and their legs press together and their chests brush every time one of them breathes but it still doesn't feel like enough, won't ever be enough. But Dean can't do anything about that because he doesn't want to lose the only thing that makes his life worth living for the sake of a nonconsensual, incestuous kiss. Which is exactly what would happen if he kissed Sam right now, he'd loose him forever.

At least, that's what Dean believes until Sam moves, coming in closer and pressing his face into Dean's neck. Dean can feel Sam's breath, warm and slightly damp when it hits his skin, and he can't hold back the shiver. The flush comes back, darkening his cheeks, and goosebumps rise on the back of his neck, only feeling worse (better) when Sam's hand fumbles for his where it's dangling over his shoulder. His baby brother pushes his fingers between Dean's and holds on, squeezing gently.

"Dean..." It's raw and emotional in a way that makes Dean speechless. The idea that Sam could do this to him, just by touching him, saying his name, strip down all his walls and make him vulnerable and open.  
Though the thing is, he doesn't feel vulnerable, despite the fear and heartache rushing to the surface as his carefully built walls come crashing down around him. He feels safe, protected, loved; like he could do or say anything and it would be okay. (Well, anything except kiss Sam, of course)

It makes him nervous, almost, on edge, because he doesn't like feeling like this, he's meant to be the big brother, not afraid of anything. That’s his job, after all, but his year's halfway over, his contract’s coming to a close and they still haven't found a way to save him from an eternity of torture and he's fucking terrified. Dean just can't help it, he's held it in for far too long already. He lets out a breathy sob, a lump the size of a planet lodged in his throat and pushing the tears out of his eyes.

Sam reacts instantly, moving calmly, as if his big brother breaking down is something he was perfectly prepared for tonight.

Thinking about it, he probably was. Because he always fucking is. Stupid Sam, always knowing him too damn well and understanding Dean's emotions in a way that even Dean can’t. Stupid, wonderful, beautiful, astonishing Sammy. His Sammy.

He lets out another pained noise, and Sam's taking his face in his giant, gentle hands, turning his face so they're making eye contact. Then he's whispering to Dean. He doesn’t say anything of importance, just meaningless, soft breaths of reassurance. Things like, "It's okay, Dean, I'm here, I got you, you're okay, just breathe, I'm okay, we're both here, we're alive. C'mon, Dean, calm down for me." His hand runs through Dean’s hair, the other still holding the side of his face.

"It’s only me; I've got you, Dean. You're gonna be okay, you’ll see."

But Dean can't stop crying, he's shuddering, gasping in gulps of air whenever his chest isn't crushingly tight around his lungs. Sam tries to comfort him, and it's working, it really is, just not well enough.

"Hey, Dean, shit, you gotta breathe."

And then Sam kisses him.

It's soft and warm. Sam tastes like mint gum and the girly ass hot cocoa he bought on the way out of town; he smells like cologne and shampoo and something so unequivocally, irrefutably Sam. Something Dean's so in love with.

Dean had expected fireworks to light up behind his eyelids. He’d been waiting for the sparks to ignite between them, and unicorns and rainbows to rain down on them. But doesn’t feel different, or new, and there’s certainly no unicorns. It feels normal, routine, like cleaning weapons or checking for injuries or anything else they’ve done a thousand times before. It’s safe and familiar and, for a split second, Dean thinks that this is everything home should feel like.

Then it hits him that this is Sam - real, physical Sam - his younger brother Sam. And that Sam is kissing him.

He opens his eyes, and finds hazel eyes, blurry and too-close, looking right back at him.

Sams' eyes widen, then Dean's lips are cold again. "Shit, Dean! Fuck, I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I-"

Sam's babbling and he sounds nervous, and Dean just cannot deal with that right now, so he pushes his fingers into Sam's soft hair, and shuts him up with his lips.

This time around, Sam's entirely surprised and Dean's the one who knows what's happening.  
Dean feels Sam's gasp against his lips, then his smile, then he's kissing back and Dean has never felt something so overwhelming, something so beautiful. He can feel Sam's eyelashes fluttering against his face, and the tense set of his brother’s body, and reaches a hand up to Sam's face. He settles it there - his other hand still deep in Sam's hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding him close– and pulls their lips apart for a second.

He looks Sam in the eyes and keeps his voice gentle. “You okay?”

Sam nods.

“You sure you want this?”

Sam frowns, confusion flickering in his eyes for a second, but he nods again, surer this time.

Dean grins, and slowly, inexorably, he presses his lips to Sam’s. It’s soft and gentle and chaste and sure, maybe there’s no fireworks or sparks lighting up the air, but it’s so much better than that – it’s a wave of warmth that fills him up, spilling out from his heart and the warmth of Sam’s lips on his and rushing to every corner of his body: the cracks between his toes, the crooks of his elbows, the tips of his ears. There isn’t a single part of Dean that isn’t buzzing and warm with the feel of his brother.

The kiss doesn’t last too long, but it’s more than enough to have Dean's heart racing and his mind reeling. He’s still breathless, and there are still tears wetting his cheeks, but Sam is in front of him, pressing gentle kisses to his lips, neck, and jaw, and somehow, Dean gets the feeling that everything is going to be just fine.

And if it isn't? Well, he has the memory of tonight, and he knows that will get him through anything.

"I'm gonna save you. I love you too much to let you go."

Sam kisses him again, softly, pulling away just enough for their foreheads to be pressed together.

"I know, kiddo, I love you too. You got that? Always love you, Sammy."

Sam grins, cheeks turning red, face lit up by stars.

"I mean it, Dean, don't give up, I'll save you."

Dean doesn't respond, but for the first time in six months, he actually believes him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really hope you enjoyed this.  
> Thank you ever so much for reading.
> 
> \- Tyler
> 
> (work title was inspired by The Summer Set)


End file.
